


Need A Hand?

by saintwrites



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintwrites/pseuds/saintwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “Are you - are you jerking off?” “Shut - shut the fuck up.” “Oh my god - and you’re close, too -” “I said /shut up/.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need A Hand?

**Author's Note:**

> Someone high five me for the cheesiest title yet.  
> If you'd like to help support me you can do so here! <3 http://ko-fi.com/clandestine

They’d spent almost two days straight in the van. Only stopping for shows, gas and food- if they were lucky. Their schedule was tight, trying to hit each show with just enough time to spare to get to the next one. To say they were pushing their limits was an understatement. 

The band had just wrapped their latest show and were already hitting the road. Joe was behind the wheel, blasting some indistinguishable heavy metal song to keep awake, with Andy in the passenger seat next to him, map spread across his lap. The drummer was staring intently at the roads and town names occasionally shouting directions over the music. Pete was situated in the backseat, headphones covering his ears, eyes closed as he soundlessly mouthed along to whatever was playing. Patrick, like usual, had been banished to the very back, surrounded by equipment and luggage.

It had been agreed upon because he was the smallest out of all of them but Patrick thought it was pretty unfair. He cursed under his breath as he got himself comfortable in the tower of suitcases. It wouldn’t be too bad if he didn’t have a drumstick currently stabbing him in the ribs and a dufflebag hazardously draped between two guitar cases. It did create a certain little canopy though, almost like being in a fort when you were a kid. 

An hour or so had passed and Patrick had finally managed to find a comfortable spot. The music had switched over to some weird mix between angry rock and reggae but he wasn’t about to question Joe’s musical taste. Pete was passed out sprawled across the backseat and the singer poked his head up to see if anyone was paying any sort of attention to him. They weren’t. 

Carefully and quietly he moved his hand down into his pants. Palming his hard on over the fabric of his boxers. It’d been weeks since he had a moment of privacy and while this wasn’t exactly the most intimate of situations the teenage boy wasn’t about to pass the chance up. He easily slid out of his boxers, pushing his jeans down to his knees. Patrick started to slowly stroke himself, shutting his eyes as he worked his hand in quick motions. 

He bit his bottom lip, letting out a small grunt as the strokes picked up. Heat crept to his face as he felt the pressure building in his stomach. It never took long.

"Holy shit." Patrick’s eyes shot open to see a very amused Pete hanging his arms over the back seat of the van. He had a smile like a cheshire cat as he raised his brows. "Are you- are you jerking off?" He asked as if it wasn’t obvious. 

Patrick moved like he’d been electrified trying to cover himself. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed as he felt his face grow hot for an entirely different reason. He could only hope Joe and Andy weren’t hearing this. 

"Oh my god you are." Pete’s devilish grin widened. "And you’re close too." His voice was low, eyes darkening. 

"I said shut the fuck up." Patrick growled back, wanting more than anything for the bottom of the van to give out and send him tumbling onto the highway. 

"Want some help?" Pete asked coyly, the smile was gone, replaced by something entirely different. Patrick couldn’t quite place his finger on it but his tone was serious. 

"Wh-what? What the fuck are you-" He started but Pete only shushed him before glancing over his shoulder. Andy and Joe seemed to be in some heated argument that could only be about music or the fact that they were probably lost. Either way they weren’t paying any attention to the two boys behind them. 

Pete licked his lips before spitting into his hand and leaning farther over the backseat. He wrapped his hand around the base of Patrick’s dick and began slowly pumping him with expert movements. Patrick had to suppress a moan as he shut his eyes. Pete sped up just enough to cause Patrick to squirm underneath him but not enough to give him the relief he needed. It was torture and he was pretty sure the older boy was enjoying every minute of it. 

His thumb flicked lightly over his slit and Patrick bit down on his lower lip until he tasted copper. He didn’t even need to look to know Pete was smirking, he could feel it. ”Cocky fucking bastard.” Patrick grunted, as his hands gripped the fabric of a backpack next to his head. 

"Hmm?" Pete mused as he slowed his pace, almost to a stop. "What was that?" 

"Fuck Pete-" Patrick moaned, "please." The bass player grinned and continued keeping an easy, steady pace. Patrick felt the orgasm building again and Pete began to pump him faster, brows knitted together in concentration. He couldn’t help it as his hips bucked into Pete’s grip and suddenly he was spilling letting out the start of a moan. Pete almost toppled over the backseat to slam his palm over Patrick’s mouth to silence him. 

"The fuck are you guys doing back there?" Joe shouted, glancing in the rear view mirror. The two looked at each other, faces flushed. 

"Nothing!" They yelled back in perfect unison.


End file.
